Of Plaid Skirts and Ties
by iheartBL
Summary: Brooke Davis attends a private school in Tree Hill, North Carolina, that is until her father's job has the Davis's moving to California. Now Brooke finds herself living with Peyton and dealing with the cultures of Public School. AU
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a story I've had planned for awhile now, but at one point, I lost my inspiration, and then, I lost the story, so I had to start from scratch. Bummer! Anyhow, it's an AU fic in which Brooke attends a prep school, but due to her dad's job, she moves in with Peyton and attends Tree Hill High. Brooke might seem OOC at times. It was originally called Squeller.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, obviously if I did, things would NOT have ended the way they did.

* * *

Of Plaid Skirts and Ties

_Someone once said; "It's the good girls that keep the diaries. The bad girls never have the time." Me? I just wanna live a life I'm gonna remember, even if I don't write it down._

She plucked a tissue from the pocket of her navy cardigan, halting her steps to blow her nose into the Kleenex. A sneeze followed shortly after, making her feel as if a bombardment of black pepper had erupted into the surrounding air, and subsequently, so did a few more. An inhale of air through the nostrils announced the reality of her clogged nose, which made the wheezing very unattractive. Then again, was wheezing ever attractive? If it was, she probably would have landed a boyfriend by now…A kiss perhaps?

"Millicent!"

The girl scowled at the sound of the slamming locker door, cringing briefly as a high pitched, yet raspy, voice screeched her name into the atmosphere. At this rate, she would never make it to class on time. Mr. Littleton would not be pleased. Philosophy was a different outlook on the world and important to the enhancement of the mind. Therefore, not a second of it should be missed. Millicent frowned, it was so enhancing that it made her brain twist. She let out a huff, turning around as a chestnut-brown haired girl, grinning madly, practically hopped towards her; her long shiny tresses gracefully bouncing along. "Brooke!"

"Davis," she sighed, uttering her surname in a dream-like trance.

And why shouldn't she, Millicent thought, Brooke's entire life had been a fairytale. Her father was a wealthy entrepreneur, and her mother liked to spend her home-maker life running charity events and organizing business launches for her husband. Plus, the Davis's resided in a beautiful white mansion with a red door and a perfectly manicured lawn. Brooke, being their only child, received whatever she wished, and never had to work a day in her life.

"It's a great time to be a Davis."

A tiny smile crawled onto Millicent's lips. "I thought it was always great to be a Davis?"

"Oh it is," the girl grinned, her dimple poking through, "but this time it's even better to be a Davis."

"And why is that?" she asked with a giggle, placing her hands around the straps of her backpack, which felt as if it carried a load of bricks. No wonder American children had back pains…Education was clearly at fault here.

"Because my dad has his final job interview with this giganto company today..."

Millicent frowned. What was so great about another job interview? Brooke was already rich. What more could the Davis family need? However, the brunette was not paying any attention to Millicent's change in emotion, instead, she continued her ramble.

"…They're taking him to play golf. And while my dad may not be the brightest tool in the…" Brooke paused, appearing to think hard, as they headed down the hall towards a set of double doors that led to a flight of steps, "wherever-they-keep-the-tools, he can play golf like freaking Michael Jordan."

Millicent chuckled. There were times it seemed that the whole clueless thing was an act Brooke put on because unknown to most, she had one of the highest grades in philosophy, but then she would say things like Michael Jordan and golf, and Millicent would have to mull over her original thoughts. She shook her head; she wasn't going to pop Brooke's bubble. The girl was clearly excited, but part of her couldn't help the tinge of sadness. "And Brooke Davis will become richer," she sighed, wistfully.

The brunette halted her steps as Millicent pushed her way through the door. "Millie!" she shouted, running after her.

The girl stopped, the air running to her nose causing a faint whistle to release through the air. How attractive, Millicent thought with a roll of her eyes, but then again, that boy that had just passed them hadn't acknowledged her anyhow, although he did stop a few seconds to gaze at Brooke. "I'm happy for you, really…Just don't forget us little people."

"I could never forget you," Brooke smiled. She walked up to her, and pulled Millicent into a hug. "You're my Millie, the person that knows me best around here."

Pushing her glasses up her nose, she smiled. Unknown to most, Brooke had an amazing heart. She made people want to be her friend. "I hope your father knocks em dead."

xoxoxox

She stared at the coffee cup that had appeared before her, bits of steam trickling its way through the hole in the lid. Her nostrils tickled with the faint aroma of mocha. How long had she been sitting here, staring off into nothing?

"Are you okay?"

She looked up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, her eyes settling upon the woman's kind face. Brooke didn't bother responding. Maybe if she ignored her, she'd go away. Besides, it wasn't as if she was going to be pleasant company. The woman only smiled in return, making her feel even worse. A sigh fell from her lips as she sunk lower into the plastic booth. No, she wasn't okay, but she couldn't say it aloud.

The woman pushed the cup of coffee towards Brooke. "You could use this."

That was incredibly sweet of her, but she hadn't asked for one.

"It's on the house…"

Okay, who passed up a free cup of…well, anything. She looked back at the dark haired woman, her hair short, and her blue eyes twinkling. She had something pulled up that sleeve of hers. Nothing ever came free.

"On one condition," she finished as Brooke fingered the cup.

"I have to tell you what I'm so upset about."

The woman nodded.

"No offense, café lady, but I'm not great at the whole telling a stranger how I feel sort of thing."

Her smile broadened. "I'm no stranger."

That wasn't entirely true. For one thing, Brooke had no idea what this lady's name was. The only thing she knew was that she worked here because she tended to come here after school sometimes. The rest of the students at her prep school avoided this place like the plague, like it was beneath them or something, but the coffee was great, and the service was exceptional, plus, how many strange ladies came up to them in Starbucks just to ask them how they were doing? "Uh…"

"Karen Roe."

Karen, right, why hadn't she thought of that? It was so…obvious. This place was called Karen's Café after all.

"The owner?" she sheepishly asked, tracing an imaginary circle across the squeaky clean tabletop.

Karen giggled.

"Alright, Karen," Brooke began, deciding that she liked this Karen lady. She had a warm air about her. She looked humbled and sweet, like the kind of person Brooke would never want to anger…something her mother never was. "My dad got a new job." Karen seemed to have a grasped all her worries, her resentment, before she even drifted off into her story…

xoxoxox

She was seated at her usual lunch table when Millicent found her, a brown paper bag in her hand. Millie was probably one of the few that packed a lunch. Her face etched with worry as her eyes took in the sight before her. Brooke sat there, her head in the palm of her hand, staring off into space. It didn't make any sense. Where was the excitement from this morning, the dimpled smile the whole school loved to see, and the over all cheer? "Brooke?"

Brooke didn't look up, but continued to pick at her spaghetti, twirling and re-twirling the stringy noodles around her fork.

Millicent let out a huff of breath, swinging herself on the balls of her feet. She hadn't seen Brooke look this gloomy since she had broken up with Felix. "What happened?" It seemed as if she was holding her breath just waiting for her friend to answer…

"My dad got the job."

"That's great," she smiled, not catching Brooke's constricted voice. What kind of sick joke was this?

Her eyes drifted to Millie's smiling face and she almost broke down all over again. A Davis wasn't supposed to cry. A Davis did not cry. She bit down onto her lip, taking a brief moment to recompose herself. "You don't understand."

This time Millicent turned to her with concern. She sat down next to her, embracing herself for the worst, although if Brooke broke out into a happy dance, then she was going to punch her in the arm-gently.

"The job's in California. We're moving next week. I don't wanna go..."

California? Moving? Next week? No, she thought with a shake of her head, this could not be happening. Brooke couldn't leave her. She was her best friend. Who would she hang out with? The other student's didn't give a damn about her existence. Millicent Huckstable was nothing more than a poor student, privileged because of a scholarship. Brooke had never seen her that way. Brooke had marched up to those girls for picking on her, claiming that she was her friend, and since that day, she had been. "What're we gonna do, Brooke."

"I don't know." There were a million things swarming across her brain, all of them an incoherent jumble. Tree Hill was home. She knew Tree Hill. She didn't even know the capital of California.

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A/N: I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions! Chapter two will pick up at Karen's Café.


	2. Hoes over Bros

A/N: Okay, this update was long over due :/ I really hope you guys enjoy!

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Chapter 2: "Hoes over Bros"

"I can't move," she stated, wiping away a tear she hadn't realized she'd cried until now. "My whole life is here. I'll be…"

"Lost?" Karen interjected with a sympathetic smile.

Brooke nodded, and then shook her head. How would she even begin to tell Peyton, her other half, her best friend? Heck, Peyton was more of a family than her own parents.

"Well," Karen began, reaching over and taking Brooke's hand, "you could warm up to the place; meet new people…"

"Whoa," Brooke cut in, "meet new people? I'm in high school, and it's hard enough fitting in as it is, I can't do that all over again."

"You seem to be a strong person, Brooke."

She let out a bated breath. That was very kind of Karen, but strong was a word she never heard from her mother's mouth. Then again, Lydia seemed to have this superiority complex. Everything was beneath that woman, her own daughter included. She fingered her cup of coffee, moving it towards her, and soothing herself with the aroma. Too bad life couldn't stand still, so she could relish in this moment forever.

"Ma!"

Karen instantly turned at the sound of the voice, the clink of the bell announcing the arrival of help.

"I'm home."

Brooke raised a brow, not bothering to turn around as Karen had just sighed.

"My son," she stated with an apologetic expression.

The younger brunette smiled as Karen stood up. "Thanks for listening, Karen. I should go. Peyton's probably waiting." She sent her a final smile, tossing her now empty cup in the trash before heading for the door.

"Did that girl just say Peyton…"

Those were the last words Brooke heard as she left the café, too clouded with thoughts to make much of the sentence.

xoxoxox

She was seated upon the front steps of the Sawyer House with a pout when Peyton walked up the driveway, her bag precariously swung over shoulder.

Her "Too Cool for School" expression faded the instant she saw the brunette. Her steps transformed into a jog before reaching the foot of the stairs. "Now, why is Bitch being a Brooke?"

Brooke's bottom lip protruded out further, her arms folding across her chest as the curly-top blonde dropped her bag, without a care, and took a seat beside her. She had no idea how to even drop the bomb that was her move. "I don't know."

Peyton rolled her eyes. "That time of the month already…"

Brooke shoved her. This was not a case of PMS. "I'm moving," she grimaced, "happy?"

"What?" Peyton asked through a scrunched face, her hand sliding up the leg of her faded jeans as she took in her friend's words. Slowly, she turned to face the brunette, their previous telephone conversation flashing across her mind. That couldn't be…Brooke was…well, giddy-to put it lightly. She was positive there was a dimpled grin on her end of the line, and no doubt a happy dance. The current gloom lingering around her best friend, however, didn't match the horrible dancing she'd conjured in her brain.

"The jobs not in Tree Hill, is it?" she asked finally, her arm subconsciously finding its way around Brooke as a form of comfort.

Brooke shook her head. No, it wasn't, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Well…" Peyton paused to swallow a lump she hadn't realized had formed. "We could always…"

"I'll be across the world, Pey."

"World?"

"California?"

"That's hardly…"

Brooke sighed. "It might as well be. I have no idea how to be a Californian. Aren't they like really liberal or something?"

Peyton rolled her eyes. She didn't rule Brooke out as a democrat just yet; although that was something she'd never share with Lydia-amongst her list of things never to be shared with that horrid woman. Lydia just might keel over, which might not have been a bad idea.

"Unless…" In an instant, Brooke was up, her dimple poking through.

"They won't let you stay by yourself," Peyton added, hating to diminish the light flickering across her friend's eyes, "it's the law…"

Brooke shrugged off her comment, even she knew that much. Although she wondered how the government would take it if they ever found out that more than half the time, Peyton was alone. "This is better than staying alone."

The blonde folded her arms, giving Brooke a look that stated she had her undivided attention.

"I could stay with you," she said through her patented grin, her fingers moving about in an animated fashion.

"Brooke, your mom…"

"Think how amazing it would be if the two of us were under a single roof? We could stay up late, call boys-or Nathan," she added with a jerk of the head, referring to her best friend's boyfriend.

"Okay," Peyton interjected, standing up. Her shoulders slumped as she looked back at Brooke. "About Nathan…"

"Lemme guess, you broke up?"

Peyton touched her hair, staring at her shoes.

"Again?" Peyton and Nathan had this off again on again relationship. Nathan was cool, and totally hot, but Brooke was beginning to get irritated of all the drama. Too put it lightly, Nathan was a-insert big word Brooke didn't know the meaning of-jerk.

The blonde didn't say a word, just nodded.

"Okay," Brooke stated, her face taking on a sympathetic expression, "come here." Although Peyton erupted into her usual no contact rule, Brooke pulled her into an embrace. "It'll be okay, you know, you'll get around it."

"And so will you. I'll talk to my dad; maybe he can convince your mom…"

"Maybe…"

"Look at this way; at least you don't have to see him in the halls everyday."

Brooke raised a brow, but she understood what Peyton meant, and at this moment, that was all that mattered. Holding out her fist she said, "Hoes over Bros?"

Peyton smiled, clapping her fist against Brooke's. "Hoes over Bros."

xoxoxox

Peyton flopped onto her bed, the music permeating through room not loud enough to cover Brooke's raspy voice. If she turned up the volume, Brooke would just toss her a scathing look and continue hollering. She let out a sigh, turning on her side to face her best friend. The girl's face was red, her lips pursed as she listened to the voice on the other end.

"What? Fine!" Brooke hollered, and amidst all the anger, she chucked her cell across the room. Luckily for her though, it landed upon Peyton's bed, unscathed.

"What happened?"

Brooke continued her pacing, her brows narrowed. "She said no."

Which was exactly what Peyton had assumed to be the answer.

"And get this," Brooke began, her lips twisting into a smile that was on the verge of a giggle, "she thinks…" The words weren't even fully out when the brunette was clutching her stomach from laughter.

"Brooke?" Her best friend was strange, Peyton had always known that much. From the outside looking in, no one would ever peg the pair of them as friends. Brooke was girly, and Peyton, well she was…complicated and sort of emo… The only thing that remotely united them in the eyes of a stranger was cheerleading, which was still hard to imagine on Peyton's part.

"Okay…" Brooke paused, holding up your finger to indicate that a moment to recuperate was needed. "…Lydia, well, she thinks you're a bad influence on me."

Peyton burst into laughter. "Has Lydia met you?" What posh prep school girl partied the way her best friend did, and with Tree Hill High's elite student body?

Brooke's laughter subsided, a breath escaping through her nostrils. Lydia had seen Brooke Davis; she just failed to see Brooke.

As Brooke took a seat upon the edge of the bed, the blonde crawled over and hugged her from behind. "I'll talk to my dad, he's pretty convincing."

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A/N: Wait, was that Lucas, and Brooke didn't even stop and take a look :/…Keep reading…


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